Explosion
by 221b-bagend-street-badwolf
Summary: Yet again Sherlock finds himself waiting up for John to come home from a date. He's grown quickly bored of this tedious pattern and finally decides to give the doctor a taste of the medicine he is missing. JOHNLOCK. One-shot.


Yet again, he was here. Standing at the window, watching the world go by. Quiet, calm, peaceful.

Sherlock grimaced and ripped the curtain back across, bathing the room in almost complete darkness.

John had left for one of his dates nearly two and a half hours ago. And Sherlock's impending jealousy was gradually threatening to break loose.

"Argh!" The detective shouted into the room. The sound resonated off of furniture and walls and was greeted only with an echo of itself. Mrs Hudson was away visiting her sister, the new tenant of 221C had left half an hour ago with friends, and John of course was still out, leaving Sherlock completely alone in the building. "Hateful." Sherlock muttered and fell back onto the sofa. Propping his hands beneath his nose, he desperately tried to take his mind off of John's date. Or to be more particular, how to destroy John's date in a subtle yet affirmative way. Again.

But his mind seemed to have nowhere else to go. He was in-between cases, Mycroft wasn't around to throw insults at and John was still on his god-awful date! So Sherlock's helpless brain had nowhere else to settle but on what John would be doing at that precise moment.

Still eating dinner?

Walking her home? Perhaps up to her doorstep. He'd fumble unnecessarily with his hands, trying to ignore the nervousness in the pit of his stomach. Make a weak joke about the man who waited at their table. She'd laugh, possibly out of genuine enjoyment, most likely just out of politeness. After all, he hadn't yet worked up the courage to kiss her.

This thought jolted Sherlock upright and he growled loudly. His teeth grinding together until it grew painful.

"Sherlock? You still up? I'm home!"

Sherlock grinned.

"Why is it so dark?" John asked as he stepped through the doorway into the living room. Sherlock stood slowly, deducing where John'd taken this woman, what he'd eaten, how much it had cost but most importantly… "Sherlock? Are you alright?"

"I'm spectacular, John." Sherlock almost hissed, advancing on the doctor with the stealth and precision of a feline.

"Have you been at the liquor cupboard or something? I thought I hid the key in the-"

"No, John." Sherlock had stopped, mere inches from John's body, towering over him like he was prey. Well, he was. "I'm fine."

"Sherlock? You're acting odd," John stepped away and started shrugging his coat off. "And when you're acting odd, I like to stay as far away as possible. Have you eaten?" He started making his way to the kitchen but Sherlock darted ahead and blocked his path. "What the bloody hell-?"

"You're sober, John." He stated.

"Yes, I am. Zoe doesn't drink." John answered his statement as if it was a question.

The detective's pale eyes flicked over John's form and the doctor resisted the urge not to sigh in annoyance.

"_Edgar's_…really? And _fifty-three_ pounds? My, my, John. You're putting more and more effort into this." Sherlock leaned dangerously close. John's demeanour hitched but he didn't falter visibly.

"Well… she was nice. I thought I should treat her." He paused, frowning up at Sherlock's intent stare. "You make it sound like my efforts are in vain."

"Well, John…" Sherlock began, advancing on his blogger again, causing the man to back up. Just as planned. "I'm upset to have to tell you this, and so soon after such a successful evening…" He continued, his voice deep and determined, steering John backwards without so much as a hand on his arm, just his words and his footsteps. "Your efforts, are most certainly…" John's heels bumped the sofa and he stumbled down to land on it, his eyes locked on Sherlock's helplessly. "In vain." Sherlock leaned down and breathed the words into John's ear.

John flinched, heat surrounding his whole being. He couldn't help it, he'd just come back from a date with only a kiss to show for it. And a lousy kiss at that. God help him if Sherlock found out that tiny detail.

Before John had a chance to protest, Sherlock had lowered himself down to straddle his lap. John bit his lip to stifle his groan and Sherlock noticed this, an amused smirk twitching at his lips.

"You know something, John?" Sherlock slowly slid his hands up John's chest and around his shoulders. "There's a word I love. Because no matter how hard someone tries, they always succumb to it. They always end up wanting something because of it. And it helps with a lot of my cases, actually." Sherlock lifted a long, pale finger and traced a line down John's jaw, enjoying John's eyes fluttering shut as he did. "So many helpless little flies flying into the sun that is…_curiosity_."

The word slipped like velvet from Sherlock's tongue and this time John couldn't bite his lip quick enough, letting out an involuntary whimper.

"Was she satisfactory, John? This, Zoe?" Sherlock bent his head to run his lower lip up John's neck to his ear, catching his earlobe in his teeth gently. "Did she provide good conversation? Because I know how you love a good conversation." Sherlock felt John's heartbeat quicken beneath him and he smiled. Moving his lips now to run along John's jawline, where his finger had moments ago been, he reached the corner of John's nose and tilted his head inwards, his lips tantalizingly close to John's parted and trembling ones. Sherlock grinned again and breathed in John's scent through both nose and mouth. And froze.

Without another word, the detective slowly pulled back, sitting upright and letting his weight centre on John's lap again. John hissed as Sherlock unknowingly had perfectly aligned their groins, but Sherlock ignored it.

John opened his eyes and blinked through his haze up as Sherlock's deadpan features.

"You kissed her."

John swallowed, but before he had a chance to explain anything at all, Sherlock had swiftly leant forward again as if to kiss John full on the mouth. He froze just inches from John's lips and watched as John made to close the gap but froze too when he realised Sherlock had stopped.

Just as the detective had predicted. He quirked a victorious half-smile.

"She was disappointing." Sherlock deduced. "A half-hearted attempt, weak and…pathetic."

John for some reason found this extremely arousing and his head dropped back onto the sofa, eyes closing once again.

Sherlock continued.

"You were expecting fireworks but she gave you a daisy." He chuckled at his poetic nonsense and set his half-lidded eyes on John's lips, his own still only a hair's breadth away. "Curiosity, John."

John opened his eyes slowly, slight confusion setting in as the detective slowly grinned. "Curiosity." He repeated. "How will you ever expect to find what you're looking for if you don't…" Sherlock pushed his lower lip against John's but pulled back before the doctor could react. "...take risks?"

Sherlock lifted his finger to press coolly against John's heated mouth.

"You wanted fireworks, John?" He smirked, running his fingertip along John's full lower lip. "I'd bet anything an _explosion_ is more your thing."

And the flat wasn't silent again for quite some time.


End file.
